Life is a series of events that turn into memories that you sift through while waiting for further events to unfold. This is how I have always seen it. I believe I formed this idea due to the fact that we watched the Neverending Story series about a million times.
In The Neverending Story II Bastion is being tricked by an evil Sorceress into wishing for things and every time he does he loses a memory. She collects these small marbles filled with memories in a large tumbler thing on her evil table. Every once in a while we watch her as she picks one up and looks at it. Makes perfect sense right? Whatever.
Basically I’m dancing around something I’m trying to deal with so I mind as well do it in a semi-public platform. I deal best when talking things out, and there’s no one to talk to really who gets this, and who mourns the way I do. So I’m trying to make myself feel better.
When I am very sad I get introverted. I am a natural extrovert and usually I get my energy fill ups by hanging out with my people. Talking an laughing and generally being the annoying loud table in the restaurant filled with those people who haven’t ever heard of the “inside voice”. When I am faced with a reality I wish weren’t I can only really deal alone, or in very select company who understands I don’t really want to talk about whatever “it” is.
My horse is being put down. She is 24, and a cripple, and in pain. It is the right choice. I just wish there wasn’t a choice. I was thirteen when she was given to me, she was seven and pregnant. Whore-S! get it?? Horse? I though it was funny. I use humour to deal ok?
Horses aren’t animals to everybody. To some of us they are partners, sisters, mothers, best friends, teddy bears, safe places. There are some things you can only tell your horse, while choking back sobs as you ride through the rain in the middle of the forrest. Hi-Lite is this to me and more. I was watching a little girl at a horse show last year. She was so tiny and she was walking through this big field while leading a Palomino pony and she was just chattering away. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I didn’t need to I knew. She was spilling out her heart to her pony and her pony was watching her with those big soul filled liquid eyes and she was totally getting all of it.
Hi-Lite is my childhood, she is me discovering that I did like boys, that I hated boys, that I wished I had blue eyes, was slimmer, had purple hair and a tongue ring. She taught me how to endure intense physical pain, how to fly, how to swim in the ocean without even thinking about sharks. She is my secret keeper. How do I say to someone “it’s ok, we need to put her down” when she is me?
Because she is in pain. Because I love her. Because I am no longer a child, I am an adult and that fucking sucks.
Now as I deal with this I am far away, alone, and trying not to feel guilty about that. I said goodbye, I said thank you, I said I love you. I said “get back you’re crowding me and try to breath between bites you pig eat slower”! Because she has bad manners when I am trying to feed her treats. And then I drove away. There is no right way to do this so I’m trying get to being ok with that. I heard a great quote today that started me thinking about this whole thing:
“You can’t force people to mourn the way you want them to just because it’ll make you feel better.”
So I guess I should let myself off the hook a little for not mourning they way I think mourning should look like. But hey, I broke down and sobbed through the Disco last week while watching So You Think You Can Dance… the Disco, the world’s happiest dance. I hate being a grown up.